


In Our Darkest Moment

by RenZombie



Series: In Our Darkest Moment [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenZombie/pseuds/RenZombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't suppose to be like this.</p>
<p>Since she was a young girl, locked away in Ostwick's Circle all she hoped in life was that one day she could Grand Enchanter, but now for Evelyn Trevelyan her life will never be the same again.</p>
<p>With the Mages and Templars at war, the fall of the Circles of Magi and now the destruction of the Conclave, Evelyn finds that for once in her life she has the power to make a difference. </p>
<p>With the mark that was gifted from Andraste and the help of some unique individuals, this is the story of Evelyn Annalise Rose Trevelyan, The Herald of Andraste and Leader of the Inquisition as she ends the darkness that blights the land.  </p>
<p>But will her past ruin the new life she's made for herself and will it affect her blooming relationship with a certain ex-Templar turned Commander?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I must admit now that even though I apologise for the shortness of this chapter, I can safely say that this story will be quite long with bigger chapters. 
> 
> As the story progresses some elements and material may be considered as dark but I shall put a warning before hand at the beginning of the chapter.
> 
> But for now I introduce you to Evelyn Annalise Rose Trevelyan and her tale as she is proclaimed Herald of Andraste.

The sound of dripping water rang throughout the dank cells underneath Ostwick circle. Mice scurried and squeaked as they roamed the stone floors, looking for shelter from the cold that leaked throughout the open slits high up on the walls. A lone prisoner sat in the far corner of her cage, her knees held tightly against her chest whilst she rocked back and forth in a futile way to comfort herself. Sobs wracked her small frame as the tears fell heavily against her pale cheeks in uncontrollable streams. 

Where was Aldric? He was there when the men in shiny armour had stormed through their home, he had hidden her in the pantry before pressing a firm kiss to her head and vanishing with the promise of return.

But they had taken her.

They had dragged her in a painful grasp of her arm, she was calling out Aldric’s name in a repeated desperate plea as she passed her parent’s hate filled gaze. And now she was here, tossed into a cell like a petty criminal all because of the curse the Maker had bestowed upon her birth. 

Fear invaded her senses and shook her bones; a cold sweat had formed upon her skin. There was no light, why was there no light? Surely the men in their fine steel armour and winged helmets couldn’t see in the darkness. For as long as she could remember, darkness had always shrouded her life, kept her hidden and consumed her thoughts, oh how she yearned for the light to warm her skin and melt the ice that she couldn’t escape.

How she yearned to walk in the sunlight.


	2. Introductions

Nerves prickled her skin, her hand curling and uncurling as she fought the urge to bite her thumbnail; a notorious habit she had for whenever her anxiety played up. Maker why was she so nervous?

Besides her Cassandra matched her pace as they made their way towards the War Room in their base in Haven, completely unaware of the internal struggle waging inside the woman on her right.

She’s been a warrior the majority of her life so she’s used to all these formalities, Evelyn mused to herself as she felt her shoulders sag. It had only been a mere three days since the destruction of the Conclave, where it not only changed the fate of the world, but also completely turned her life a complete hundred and eighty degrees. Unconsciously she clutched her left hand into a tight ball; if it wasn’t for the mysterious marl, her body would probably be amongst the fallen ready for the pyre, whether it was due to whatever happened within the Temple of Sacred Ashes or being branded as a traitor and killed for justice by the Seeker besides her. Either way it seemed luck was on her side. They considered her important, a source in means to closing the Breach and hopefully ending the war between mages and Templars, and she found herself to be more than willing to help.

Growing up in Ostwick Circle, Evelyn had seen what the conflict between her fellow mages and their so-called jailors was like from first hand experience. She didn’t believe in the Chantry views; locking people away for the rest of their lives wasn’t going to solve anything, in all honesty it would only create more tension. Yet the Circle of Magi had purpose; they helped young mages, too vulnerable and naïve to truly understand the power they yielded, to harness that raw energy they possessed and control it. 

She had seen much needless suffering and this was her chance to truly make a difference, to have some purpose in her life. So now she unofficially worked along the people who were originally her captors, to create peace across the land. 

Hastily Cassandra opened the door to the small room at the back of the Chantry that Evelyn believed to be the War Room. Inside three figures stood around a table that took up most of the room with a large map adorned the surface that was scattered with various markers. As they heard the tell tale groan from the door, their heads rose in curiosity. Coming to a halt, Cassandra turned towards Evelyn and jumped straight into the introductions.

“You have already met Sister Leliana,” the shrouded woman in mention nodded her head once in acknowledgement, a small smile faintly tracing her lips. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

To Evelyn the first thing that struck her when she laid eyes upon Lady Josephine Montilyet was the sense of nobility that surrounded her. Her posture was held straight, the way she held even the mundane task of holding her scribe was held with graceful manner. She was also very beautiful; with her dark complexion and a figure that men seemed to take fancy to and a unique style sense, the ambassador just screamed femininity. 

“It is so good to finally meet you,” her accent revealed her to be Antivan as she smiled to reveal two perfect rows of pearly white teeth, causing Evelyn to return the gesture with a small one of her own.

“And of course lastly this is Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisitions forces.”

As soon as Evelyn laid eyes on the single most powerful man serving under the Inquisition, she felt her back straighten as her body stiffened and her eyes widened in awareness. 

Templar.

She could feel the silent thum in his blood due to years of taking lyrium, his straight posture reminded her of the familiar sight of armoured men that were placed around the Tower in Ostwick. He was fair medium in complexion, his hair the colour guinea gold silk which only complimented his armour which was a made with varying tones of crimson. However it was his eyes that captivated her, as they were such an unusual colour of amber that she couldn’t help but stare into them. It was only when she realised in embarrassment that he too had his eyes fixed upon her with the same curiosity, his defining brows creasing. 

He too was wary, as it was for certain he knew she was a mage and how she couldn’t help notice how his hand lingered on the hilt of his sword on his hip. There was an uneasy unspoken tension, one she cared not to have.

Shaking the slight apprehension she felt in her stomach, she smiled in his direction with a slight tilt in her chin. Still he made no move as he continued to stare at her with his intense gaze.

“Everyone may I introduce you to Lady Evelyn Trevelyan from Ostwick,” Cassandra said with a sweeping hand in her direction as she concluded the introductions.

Evelyn tore her gaze from the Templa… no Commander as she continued to smile at all those who surrounded the table, trying to subdue her embarrassment of having so much attention drawn upon her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

The slight awkwardness that always occurred during introductions so diminished as they jumped straight into business, discussing the Inquisitions next move and what was best. Cassandra braced both hands against the table as everyone’s attention was drawn to the map in front of them, every once in a while the Seeker’s finger would jab in a certain area. 

Evelyn tried to focus, but she couldn’t help but be all too aware of the strong presence only a foot away. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the Commander in idle fascination. He too had his head slightly bent as he concentrated on what Cassandra was saying. His hair shimmered in the candlelight, his strong features softened in the bask of the glow and for the first time she noticed the thin white scar that ran through his lip and how the stark whiteness contrasted with the dark stubble that dusted his defined jaw. Her fingers itched as she felt a sudden need to trace that line with he finger, to then to…

Maker see really needed to stop staring and pay attention, now wasn’t the time to ogle over a man let alone that he was a Templar and an important figure within the Inquisition.

Just as she was mentally chastising herself, she suddenly found that he too was staring at her from the corner of his eye, a brow lifted in silent question. Blood rushed to the surface of her cheeks and the column of her neck as her eyes immediately trained on the map in front. She never was subtle and not for the first time in her life she cursed for not learning to develop the mask that all nobles had. 

As she continued to look downwards, she could feel the heat of his attention on her. Why just why did she have to make a fool of herself? 

“As I said before, your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” it took her a moment before Evelyn realised that Cassandra was addressing her. Looking up she saw how the Seeker’s brows had bunched together in confusion, no doubt over the mage’s sudden weird behaviour. 

“Which means we need to approach the rebel mages for their helped,” Leliana remarked.

“And I still disagree,” a disgruntled voice argued. Looking up Evelyn saw that the Commander’s attention solely focused on the spymaster, a frown marring his features. “The Templars can serve just as well.”

Cassandra gave a heavy sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. 

“Commander we have already discussed this, the mark needs enough magic to be able to - ”

“Destroy us all. Pouring magic into something we do not full understand will be disastrous for us all,” to give more emphasis, his gloved hand sliced through the air in a sharp stroke. “The Templar’s can handle it, supress the Breach and weaken it so - ” 

“Pure speculation,” Leliana deadpanned, causing herself to receive a dark look of disapproval.

“I was Templar,” he began his harsh tone softening slightly. “I know what they’re capable of.” The lines in his forehead faded slightly as his eyes suddenly possessed a far away look, this causing Evelyn to wonder why he hadn’t remained in the order considering he spoke some value towards it.

“Yes as true as both notions are, I’m afraid neither group will speak to us,” Josephine informed as she looked down at her scribe, the quill in her hand moving fluently. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – specifically you my Lady.”

Once more all eyes landed on upon Evelyn’s form, causing her to shift in discomfort.

“After everything they still think I’m guilty?” She tried to quell the annoyance she felt, hadn’t already proved that the destruction of the Conclave wasn’t her fault?

“Not entirely,” the Antivan woman began, as she looked up with her dark eyes “Some are calling you ‘The Herald of Andraste’ not only does this frighten the Chantry, but they also consider it blasphemy due to you being a mage.”

Evelyn felt her eyes widen in surprise. They where praising her? Since she first woke up in her cell only to be interrogated and branded a traitor, all she wanted to do was clear her name and help; To finally have that was a relief she didn’t realise weighted her shoulders but for them to call her ‘Herald of Andraste’, well she couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved.

“At this present moment talking to either parties and negotiating is out of the question, this making our options limited,” Josephine sighed as her quill moved vigorously across her parchment.

“Just how exactly am I the Herald of Andraste?” Evelyn asked before she could stop herself.

“People saw you at the temple, you saved those soldiers and stopped the Breach from growing,” Cassandra said as she turned towards her. “People have also heard the stories of how you walked out of the Rift with a woman besides you,” the Seeker paused for a second and her steel grey eyes shone. “They believe her to be Andraste and that you were sent to us by her, hence your title as Herald.”

“But they don’t even know what happened when I came out of the Rift, Maker I don’t know what happened. They’re basing everything off of speculation!” Evelyn exclaimed; really the notion of her being sent by Andraste was absurb, she was just a mage.

“But you don’t know what happened either, whatever you experienced whilst in fade for all you know it could very well have been Andraste,” Leliana countered, her blue eyes bright. 

She had a point. Evelyn couldn’t truly remember what had happened, but there had been someone.

“Still I do not wish to give people false hope,” she admitted quietly.

A silence fell amongst them, she could tell they were just itching to talk about her new title but could tell of her unease. Out the corner of her eye she could see Leliana’s mouth open to speak, her ever vigilant gaze on the mage, before another voice interrupted. 

“Leliana didn’t you have some information about a Chantry Mother?” Cullen inquired, his question causing the Sister to frown momentarily.

Immediately the Sister informed the group of her contact, as she spoke once again Evelyn couldn’t help but stare at the Commander. Did he really just cover for her? He must have sensed her questioning gaze, as his amber stare met hers and for a moment they just watched each other, until ever so slightly the corner of his mouth tipped upwards causing her heart to flutter in response and break the connection between them.

It was decided right then and there as she felt his attention on her that after the meeting she was going to the tavern and getting a stiff drink, or maybe two.


	3. Her Name

“Again.”

The recruit looked up, a sheen layer of sweat evident on his brow before he nodded to his Commander and repeated the move as he sparred with his opponent, his concentration evident as he tried to impress his supervisor.

Even though he tried to make his face impassive, Cullen couldn’t help the slight pinch oh his lips. He could feel the throbbing in his head and the dull ache at the back of his eyes. His hands had began to tremble slightly at the beginning of the day, and throughout his duties he placed one on the hilt of his sword while the other was clasped behind his back in order to conceal his weakness. 

The box that held his kit was in the far corner in his tent, he could imagine taking the lyrium in his hand, could almost taste the blue liquid as it slid down his throat allowing him to…

He physically shook his head from such thoughts; he had to stop thinking about it, concentrate on his soldiers. The constant need to work allowed him to stop the pain momentarily, thus this was why he continued to push himself; he would not become what Meredith had been, he just wouldn’t allow it.

A flash of sapphire caught his eye and turning he watched as a figure strolled across the snow-covered field. 

The Herald was dressed in light tanned breeches, a linen shirt covered in a darker tanned waistcoat as her long azure coat billowed in the icy wind. Not for the first time, Cullen couldn’t help but admire her beauty. Her long hair was the most unusual blonde he had ever seen, as it was nearly as pale as the snow around them. The hair in question was pulled attractively away from her face and trailed down her back in a neat plait. Her skin was like satin ivory, which only enhanced the pink tinge in her cheeks and nose, no doubt from the cold. But it was her eyes that captivated him, large and doe like and once again a strange blue grey that was so pale that her iris barely contrasted against the whites of her eyes. Her beauty was unique, but her heart was full of warmth and kindness.

Ever since the day they met in the war room, Cullen couldn’t help but be intrigued by her. At first he was cautious, she was a mage and even though he wasn’t the same hate filled man he once was, he couldn’t ever get rid of the underlying unease. It wasn’t until he had seen her kindness that he had realised that his mistrust was unwarranted. She helped whenever she could and rarely refused anyone. She was easy to talk to, with her joyous laughter and easy going smile and soon she had everyone warming up to her, even Cassandra - who was notorious for frowning - had been caught a couple of times with a small smile whilst in the mage’s company.

She was easy to spot and whenever she was in his sights he just couldn’t look away. For example, at that moment in time he was supposed to be watching as the recruits practised a manoeuvre he had taught them with their shield, yet he paid half attention to his charges as from the corner of his eye he watched her.

She was talking with the Qunari she had hired, her head tilting upwards so she could look into the warrior’s face. It was also noted that every time she returned to Haven from a errand or a mission, she always had more people in tow then when she had left. Along the way she had brought back an ex-Grey Warden and a huge bare chested Qunari who led his own band of mercenaries. One couldn’t say she didn’t keep interesting company.

Her laugh rang across the open space, it was light but infectious enough that he could feel the twitch in his lip even know he didn’t know what she found so humorous. The Quanri was staring down at her, a broad grin plastered across his face as he watched her shaking shoulders. 

“Commander?”

Blinking a couple of times, Cullen turned to the source of the voice to see one of his soldiers, a large wad of documents and scribe clutched in his armoured hand.

“Sister Leliana requested that you sign these sir.”

Nodding the Commander accepted the papers and scanned through the contents briefly before he received the quill the messenger handed him. 

“More paperwork? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you surrounded by anything else,” an amused voice observed from his side.

Startled the quill moved abruptly, causing his elegant hand to spike suddenly. The Herald smile grew as he turned to look at her, her pale eyes sparkling. He couldn’t help the weary chuckle that escaped him as his mouth tilted slightly.

“I swear no matter if I finish the pile on my desk, another one appears the next morning,” he says as he signed the last document and handed it back to the messenger. As soon as the boy hurried back towards the Chantry, Cullen fully turned to the Herald. The smile disappeared and a small frown replaced it.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” she asked softly.

“There’s so much to do,” he sighed. “Without the support of either the mages or the Templars, we’re solely relying on our troops.” They began to walk through the chaos of the recruits training towards the cluster of tents. 

“You’re doing an amazing job Commander, they’ve made much improvement since the last time I saw them,” she paused as her eyes began to sparkle. “Even Cassandra speaks highly of your progress, if not anything that should tell you something.”

He chuckled in response, which only caused her grin to grow. They stopped by one of the crimson tents, the sound of steel clashing slightly in the distance. Cullen took to gazing across the lake, the frozen surface reminding him of Lake Calenhad during the winter.

“I appreciate the praise, but I’m afraid there is still much to do,” he replied as he looked up at the Breach. “I’m sure everyone else is just as busy as I am.”

“Yes but not everyone is in charge of an army,” she argued as her fine brows drew in together in concern. He couldn’t help the clenching in his stomach as he heard the worry in her voice; there weren’t many people who were concerned for his welfare apart from his family.

She’s concerned about everyone; it’s in her nature. Don’t think you’re special Cullen he chastised himself trying to ease the giddiness he felt whenever he was around her. But still he could feel the fluttering in the pool of his stomach. 

“We all have to work hard for this Inquisition, the Chantry has all but done nothing about all this chaos and we can help where they can not. Our followers can be apart of that, if only we could- ” he stopped abruptly as he realised he was in the beginnings of a rant, one that he was use to having with either Josephine or Leliana. The Herald was only being kind, worrying about him over working himself; she didn’t need a long boring speech. “Forgive me, I doubt came for a lecture,” he finished as his voice softened.

“No, but if you have one prepared I would love to hear it,” she replied with that glint in her eye. For the third time that day he couldn’t help but laugh, he found he often couldn’t supress his mirth around her.

“Another time perhaps,” he murmured. Her smile was different for him this time; it wasn’t like her usual grin with all teeth that just screamed mischief. No this one was slow almost sensual as the one side of her lips tipped up, her eyes boring into his. “I, ah…” he coughed as he felt the blood rush to his face, his eyes darting everywhere but her.

“Commander! Ser Rylan has a report on our supply line,” the same soldier from earlier appeared once more, his ever present scribe in hand as he approached the pair.

“I’ll leave you to your work Commander,” the Herald declared as soon as he accepted the report. Cullen glanced up at her as she continued to smile at him.

“Of course Herald,” he replied, his voice taking a tone he always carried around his soldiers; it was strong and hard. He mentally kicked himself as he realised that to her it sounded like he disapproved of her flirting.

With a nod of her head, she turned swiftly on her heel and marched back towards the main gate, only as she made a few feet away from him did she turn back.

“By the way it’s Evelyn,” she called across the field with a smirk, causing a few of his men to look up at her with curiosity. 

All he could was stare dumbfounded at her retreating figure as her coat swished with each stride, this time however he could control the blush that threatened to creep up his neck.

Evelyn, he mused to himself as he still continued to watch her, the report in his hand completely forgotten and for once his trembling had stopped.


	4. A Moment to Breathe

_“Take her to her room and keep her there,” the cold voice of her Mother commanded, her face turned as she refused to look down at her daughter._

_The maids were only trying to be kind as they grasped her hands gently and pulled her away from the main hall. Her senses numbed and in the distance she could hear Aldric arguing with Mother. Where was Father? He hadn’t seen her since he had witnessed her trick. It had been one of those rare days that he stopped by the garden whilst her and Aldric were playing with their Mabari. He had had a small smile play upon his lips as his eyes, so much like her own revealed crows feet in the corners as he stared at his children in amusement._

_“Papa! Papa! Look what I can do!” Evelyn raced towards him as he knelt down to greet her. Opening her chubby hand, her small brow furrowed as she concentrated, then slowly small wisps of ice flowed through her fingers and trailed into the air. She beamed up at her Father; no doubt he’d be impressed at her feat and praise her, yet when she looked up into his face her heart dropped. His skin had grown pale, his mouth open and eyes wide with horror, he stood abruptly as he tensed his jaw and stared down at her._

_What had she done? Was she in trouble?_

_A hand grasped her still her out stretched wrist, and she tore her gaze to see Aldric forcefully pulling her into the castle. He too seemed angry, his eyes taking on that steely gaze he always had when they fought. He dragged her up to his room, and sat her down on his bed in the centre of the room._

_“Have I done something wrong?” she asked in a small voice, her shoulders quivering as she tried not to cry. She was a big girl and big girls didn’t cry._

_Aldric knelt before her, both hands bracing either side of her face as he stared intensely into her eyes._

_“Evie where did you learn how to do that?” he asked softly yet his expression was heated._

_“I…it just came to me, I just think about it and when I concentrate really hard I can it make happen,” she answered as her lip quivered. “Am I in trouble?”_

_Sighing heavily Aldric pulled her into a fierce hug, his arms like steel around her small frame as she shook with sobs._

_“No, but did you show anyone else?” he felt her shake her head as it rested on his shoulder and he closed his eyes in relief. “Good.” He pulled away slightly and when he saw the tears that ran down her cheeks, he swiped them away with his thumbs. “Now you need to do me favour and stay here, lock the door and don’t let anyone else in but me. Do you-“_

_The sound of the door crashing against the stone wall interrupted them, a few of the families personal guards stormed through the room and tore the young girl from the arms of her brother. Aldric, who was at that horrible stage where he was not considered a boy but not yet a man, struggled in protest as demands left his lips in sharp angry tones. Evelyn shivered as they dragged her through the winding corridors of their family’s castle, until they entered the main hall._

_Lady Marcia Trevelyan stood before the large fireplace at the top of the platform. Her willowy figure stood tall and proud as she stared down in disdain at the scene before her, dark eyes trained upon Evelyn._

_“You’re Father has passed on the most curious information to me,” she began with the cold shrill voice that seemed to chill Evelyn to her bones. “He tells me that you are able to produce a marvel that he has not witnessed before.” She clasped her thin claw like hands together as she placed them neatly in front of her. “Well is this true?”_

_Evelyn could not respond, it was not the first time she had heard that tone and she could not forget how her skin would sting in result of the aftermath. So instead she remained quiet, her small frame shaking uncontrollably as the tears fell heavily against her cheeks._

_“ANSWER ME!” her Mother screamed, the sound echoing off of the stonewalls._

_The girl flinched at the harsh tone and if not for the guards hands that rested upon both shoulders she would have fallen backwards._

_“Y..yes Mother,” she stuttered as she stared down at the ground miserably. Marcia continued to stare down at the child, her chin raised slightly in an elegant motion, her posture screaming of the disgust she felt._

_“I see, well we can’t have people knowing what you are for it would bring shame,” she remarked in an almost sigh, the word shame being emphasised. Slowly she turned her head slightly to talk to the few handmaids that always followed her. “Take her to her room, lock her in and don’t let anyone in.”_

_“Where’s Papa?” Evelyn asked before she could control herself. He hadn’t come down, and she couldn’t shake his horrified expression out of her mind; she needed to reassure herself that everything was okay._

_“Why he is not your Father anymore and you are no longer his daughter,” Marcia said, her voice almost sounding cheerful. “You are a mage Evelyn, and mages do not have family nor do they hold titles. As of this day you are no longer a Trevelyan, you are nothing.”The announcement was clear as it echoed through the near empty hall. “Take her to her room and keep her there.”_

_Aldric immediately started shouting, he was marching towards his Mother as two guards grabbed both arms and restrained him. He bucked and struggled, spittle leaving his lips as he screamed at the noble woman._

_Too frightened to do anything else, Evelyn numbly allowed the maids to take her to her room. Her young mind was reeling, not truly understanding what had just transpired yet realising that there was now a shift in her life._

_As she entered her room, the maids scurried out as if she was some ravenous animal that would tear them apart if they lingered longer than necessary. As she heard the daunting sound of the lock bolting in it’s place, her little knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor as she sobbed heart-wrenching tears in the midst of her dark room._

Evelyn sat bolt upright in bed, her hair disarrayed and tears escaping down her cheeks.

She hadn’t had that dream in awhile; the memories were so vivid she felt as if she was reliving every moment. It took her a few deep breaths for her to realise that she was in Haven, no longer was she a six year old child in Ostwick.

Sighing she raked a shaky hand through her tangled hair; sleep would not come easy to her now and she wondered what to do. Silently she stared into the flame of the candle that flickered besides her bed, she never really was a fan of the dark and always left one lit. After a few moments contemplating, she decided the best way to calm her shaken nerves was to take a walk, the cold and beauty of the frozen lake would no doubt clear the unflavoured memories that continued to play in her head.

Quickly she slipped on her cream woollen shirt and tanned breaches before sliding into a pair of knee high black boots, as she left she wrapped herself in her long leather sapphire coat.

It was the middle of the night, the stars scattered in the midnight sky as they sparkled like a thousand diamonds; she would have said it looked beautiful if not for the daunting glow that illuminated from the Breach. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she made her way through the winding path that lead her towards the main gate, her boots causing the snow beneath her to crunch; something she wasn’t accustomed to as she had spent her life in the warmth of Ostwick, a place where it barely snowed.

Opening and closing the large heavy gate proved to be difficult, as she tried to make as minimum sound as possible yet as she pushed on the wood it groaned in protest.

The first thing that struck her was how the camp in which the soldiers resided was awfully eerie in the middle of the night. She was often accustomed to the sound of steel clashing, the light hearted taunts that the recruits would throw at each other as they sparred, yet at that present moment all was silent except for the flapping of the Inquisition flags that fluttered in the cold winter’s breeze.

Pausing only a few feet away from the frozen edge of the lake, Evelyn closed her eyes and breathed in the icy air. She yearned for moments like this, where she was not needed and she could spare some time for herself and gather her thoughts. While in the circle she often retreated into the library, whenever she felt overwhelmed and needed some alone time. She had made a family amongst her fellow mages and loved them all, yet alike all families one needed to just escape if not for a few hours. She would often read for hours, books on varying subjects and most of her knowledge of the outside world was all thanks to those musky tomes that she often pilled onto her desk. With a pang of sadness she wondered whatever happened to those books during the Circle rebellion.

For how long she stood by the water’s edge she did not know for it could have been minutes or even hours, as her eyes remained closed and the winters grasp flirted with her hair, before a sound caught her attention.

In the distance, the rhythmic pattern of what sounded like someone chopping wood, travelled through the silence. Looking around Evelyn saw no one about, everyone supposedly in bed sleeping. Yet on closer inspection, the lamps outside the small barn that stood besides the blacksmith were lit, the fire like a beacon enticing her to draw closer. As she approached she could hear the thump of steel sinking into wood before sliding out then the process repeating again.

Light poured out of the crack from the door, the shadows occasionally moving to indicate someone was in the barn moving. Silently she crept up to the half open door, careful about her feet crunching against the snow as she peered into the barn.

Cullen stood in the middle of the room with a training dummy prepared before him; he was crouched in a stance as he prepared his sword to attack. Sweat covered his body, his plain linen shirt clinging to his chest and arms revealing the definition of his form. His normal armour was nowhere in sight, instead he donned a pair of breeches and tanned boots.

She knew she shouldn’t be staring or even watching him, but it was such a rare opportunity for him to be out of his armour and not acting so tense; which was much of the time when he was surrounded by his soldiers. Her eyes trailed the length of his body, as she took in this new appearance.

He was tall, far taller than he seemed when wearing his armour, his shoulders were broad and the material of his shirt stretched enough so she could almost see his back muscles ripple as he rolled his shoulders. His skin was tanned, appearing almost bronze in the golden light off the torches that surrounded him; the sheen of sweat that covered his body made him appear to shimmer.

Maker he was the definition of handsome.

Without realising she applied a bit too much pressure on the hand that rested on the door, and soon the hinges groaned in protest causing her to fall inside the room. Cullen who was in mid swing, jumped and faltered as he heard the noise of the door opening.

Soon he was in a battle stance, ready to defend himself against the intruder. Evelyn watched as his fierce eyes and curled lip turned towards her, yet as soon as his gaze settled upon her it shifted to a look of surprise and confusion.

“Herald?”

A fierce blush transpired in her cheeks and travelled up her neck, as she hastily rose from the ground. Embarrassed she brushed her hands down her clothing to rid herself of any dirt or straw as she tried to think of something to say.

“I…I’m so sorry! I came out for a walk and I saw the torches burning and I was wondering who it was,” she began to ramble, why was it she was in a situation like this she had no control on her mouth? “I didn’t realise you were practising, if I had known I would-” she stopped as she gasped suddenly as she saw the crimson rivulet run down his arm and drip unceremoniously onto the straw floor. “Cullen you’re bleeding!” she exclaimed as his brows furrowed and looked down at his wound, his eyes widening slightly as he took notice of the blood.

Without thinking Evelyn marched towards him taking his uninjured arm in her grasp and directed him to one of the benches, whilst minding the sword that he still held.

“Sit,” she ordered as they reached the bench. Cullen gaze shifted from her to the bench till finally it rested on her face.

“My Lady it’s only a scratch I’ll be fine-” he began before Evelyn cut him off.

“Cullen it was my fault that I caused you to loose concentration and cut yourself, please let me clean it up,” she said softly as her face tilted upwards so her eyes pleadingly stared into his. He gazed at her for a moment or too before he nodded his agreement and sat obediently on the bench and rested his sword besides him.

Happy, Evelyn went in search for a bucket and linen which she found in the far corner besides an old metal tap where she had to pump the water into the bucket. Heaving the container with both hands, while the linen was draped casually over her shoulder she waddled back towards the Commander.

Straddling the bench she took off her coat and neatly placed it behind her before rolling up the sleeves of her shirt to her elbows. She tried to suppress the shiver that crept up her spine, as the cold air washed over her skin; how he could be training and not shiver due to the lack of warm clothing and sweat was beyond her.

Gently she grasped his arm and pulled it towards her as she inspected the wound. The cut wasn’t as deep as she initially thought yet it ran from his elbow to mid-way down his arm, the blood was pouring freely down his tanned arm.

“I do apologise for this,” she murmured as she folded the cloth she had retrieved and dipped it into the cold water.

“It was my own mistake, I should have been more on my guard instead of concentrating so hard,” he replied, his voice smooth as it matched her tone. She frowned as she rang out the excess water from the cloth.

“You shouldn’t have to always be on your guard,” gently she placed the flannel onto the wound and compressed it into his flesh. From underneath her lashes she gazed up at him and saw that he was watching her with warm eyes. “Besides haven’t I told you to relax and take a break once in a while?” She smirked as he let out a low chuckle.

“You have yet I must admit I rarely have a peaceful slumber,” he replied as his gaze shifted from her face to the cold compress.

“How long has it been like that?” He hesitated slightly as he gave a weary sigh, his eyes suddenly dulling as the glazed with a far away look.

“Since I was transferred to Kirkwall’s Circle I suppose,” he murmured and she wondered if he was replying to her question or answering his own silent one.

“You were stationed in Kirkwall?” she asked as she lifted the cloth and dipped it back into the bucket. The clear water became tinted with his blood, wisps of crimson floating in the liquid.

“I was Knight Captain there for ten years before Cassandra recruited me for the Inquisition,” his eyelid fluttered closed briefly as she began to clean the blood off his skin in circular motions. “In truth I was not all that sad to leave.”

“Didn’t you have any friends you were leaving behind?” his arm was becoming cleaner with every stroke, yet in truth she kept the cloth on him longer than necessary as she enjoyed the feel of her fingertips brushing his skin to feel his warmth radiating into her.

“I had no friends to speak of as I mostly concentrated on my work,” he replied.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she smirked as she caught sight of his scar twitching in response.

“Besides the very few people I had became acquainted with either left Kirkwall or died during the…” he trailed off but she knew what he meant.

The destruction of the Chantry in Kirkwall was common knowledge within the Free Marches; the people were both horrified and saddened of the events that had occurred that night. Some of the stories told about what happened had been enough to send a chill through her bones, but to actually be in the centre of all the chaos… well it was no wonder he couldn’t sleep.

“And no one special caught your eye?” she asked before she truly realised what she had said. She could feel the furious blush cover her whole body and prayed that he couldn’t see it in the dim light. She didn’t dare look up as she bit her lip and continued wiping the last bit of blood off his skin, yet she could feel the heavy weight of his eyes staring down at the top of her head. She was about to apologise before her breath caught at his answer. “

Not in Kirkwall,” he replied his voice low and husky, the warmth it held replaced the coldness she had felt earlier and sent a tremor through her heart.

Taking a chance she gazed up at his face from under her lashes, to see his cheeks tinge with pink. Yet his eyes, like liquid gold in the firelight shone with heat as he stared into her blue-grey ones. Suddenly feeling self-conscious she averted her attention onto his wound to see his arm clean except for the long thin scarlet gash that contrasted against his bronzed flesh.

“I, er you’re arm’s clean,” she said lamely with her head downcast. “Although I would very much like to heal the cut.”

She knew that some people, especially Templars were funny about using magic for healing purposes so she always asked for permission. Underneath her hand she could feel the muscles in his arm tense slightly and heard the slight intake of breath. Her eyes darted upwards as she waited, until finally he nodded his head once in approval.

Closing her eyes she concentrated on his wound, her fingers drifting across the surface of his skin as she imagined the skin knitting back together again without leaving a scar. Her eyelids fluttered open to see the wound was gone, his arm whole and perfect as her fingers still drifted over his flesh to his wrist where briefly she felt his pulse, to finally his rough palm and the tips of his fingers. Realising what she was doing, she curled her fingers into her palm to make a fist, and then lowered it onto her lap. Maker why did she always make a fool of herself? She dreaded to think what his thoughts were.

“Thank you Herald,” he murmured in that warm voice of his, that she believed no matter how many times she heard him speak to her like that it would always send a shiver of pleasure down her spine. Instead she snorted in reply.

“How many times have I told you to call me Evelyn?” she mockingly glared at him as she saw his mouth tilt into a half smile.

“Forgive me, I suppose I’m used to saying the title.”

“I haven’t, I still cringe whenever some addresses me that,” she said in an almost whisper.

“I shall remember that for next time,” he replied his voice lowered to match hers.

It was at that moment Evelyn realised how close they were sitting, their faces were so close together she could feel his breath fan out on her cheeks, see the hazel flecks in his eyes and feel his heat draw closer. Her gaze travelled down to his mouth then back to his eyes.

She needed to get out of here.

“I apologise for interrupting you Commander, next time I shall knock first,” she tried to joke but her voice was heated and rough as she drew away from him and stood up to retrieve her coat.

Cullen blinked a few times as he remained seated and she could see a new wave of pink grace his cheeks. He watched as she put on her coat and made her way towards the door. For a moment she lingered, her hand resting on the wooden panels as she turned slightly to face him, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Goodnight Commander, I hope you at least try and get some sleep.” She expected him to laugh or chuckle but instead she was rewarded with that half smile that made her heart flutter.

“Thank you and goodnight Evelyn.”

Her eyes widened for a moment in shock with her mouth opening slightly, and then with the happiness she felt she beamed at him before turning and leaving the barn.

When she finally returned back to her cabin and nestled back into bed, she knew her dreams would no longer haunt her but involve the warmth murmur in the way a certain Commander said her name.


	5. Turn of Events

She couldn’t help but gaze in wonder as she took in the exotic smells and the vibrant colours that surrounded her. 

The jolt of excitement that grew in her stomach only intensified whenever she laid her eyes on new and wondrous sights. Growing up in the Circle didn’t allow a Mage to see the outside world, instead people had to resort to books or from what they heard people say through stories; sometimes if a Templar was friendly they would often tell the younger mages stories of their travels. But now with no Circle or Templars to hold her back or the fear of being branded an apostate, Evelyn greedily stared at in wonder at her surroundings, no doubt causing Cassandra to sigh at her lack of attention.

“Evelyn will you please focus on the matter at hand?” the Seeker requested for the third time that day. Blinking a couple of times, Evelyn turned and gave Cassandra a shy apologetic smile as she self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Sorry, it’s just this is my first time in Val Rouyeux and well they weren’t exaggerating on the stories you hear.”

Cassandra gave an unladylike snort through her nose as she stared in disdain around at the high vaulted walls that held the fine marble statues.

“All these decorations are so frivolous, what ever happened to keeping them plain and simple?”

“Oh I don’t know, I think it all rather just screams ‘Look our country is far more sophisticated and elegant than yours,” Evelyn joked causing the Seeker to chuckle lightly. 

Both companions strolled through the intricate and flamboyant entrance into the city, with Evelyn still unable to control her awe filled gaze as she took in the grand architecture while Cassandra grumbled under her breath as her hard stare mirrored how she’d rather be any other place. Nobles sauntered the streets, their clothing just as extreme and flamboyant as their setting. 

There was something unnerving about the various different style masks they wore, how the dark sockets for eyes seemed to sinisterly watch Evelyn’s every move in silent question as their expression was frozen in time. It reminded her in her days in court; just before she was sent to the Circle and told her presence was needed for morale of the family. The nobles had worn those same masks, maybe not physically but they were there none the less; painted smiles to hide their own twisted agendas. 

Commotion could be heard as they entered the main square, calls and demands echoing in the small area. A crowd had formed around a small platform, where a Chantry Mother flanked by two Templars interacted with her audience. As soon as the two inquisition soldiers approached, the woman’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Our beloved Divine Justinia’s body lays amongst those who perished during a deed most foul!” Her Orlesian accent cried out in despair as the crowd responded with cries of their own. “Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery.” Her eyelids narrowed as her gaze grew cold, lines creasing in her brow as thin lips were pulled tight in a frown. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well wonder no more!” To emphasis her cry, she raised one of her small shaking hand and pointed towards Evelyn’s direction. 

The crowd gasped in horror and parted as they realised that the Divine’s supposed murderer was amongst them. All around them whispers rose and venomous glares were shared. 

Well they sure know how to throw a welcome, Evelyn thought bitterly as she tried to ignore the eyes that burnt holes into her in every direction.

“We only come here in the name of peace,” Evelyn declared as she took a step towards the podium and was surprised as her voice remained firm and confident, compared to her the nerves that threatened to make her knees shake.

“Peace! And who are you? Surely our beloved Andraste would not send you, a mage as our saviour, as her Herald?” the Mother scoffed as she took a menacing step forward, her shaking finger returning as it pointed towards Evelyn’s form. “You are nothing more than a charlatan! A false prophet who has come to take advantage on us during our hour of need!” 

All around them the whispers had grew into fully-fledged shouts of indignation, their postures becoming hostile and rigid as they turned towards the two companions. Cassandra swore under her breath as her hand moved towards the hilt of her sword, while Evelyn continued to stare at the volatile woman before her with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. Why couldn’t people listen to reason? Why was there always pointless hostility?

“Enough! We came here to talk, not to listen to self-serving lies!” She shouted allowing all the frustration and built up anger to be evident in her voice. 

“It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it’s too late!” Cassandra pleaded as she saddled besides Evelyn, her voice even though demanding strangely helped to reign in some of the Mage’s anger. 

Out the corner of her eye she could see the glint of steel in the sunlight, the sound of heavy boots marching in synch. Turning her attention slowly in the direction in which it was from, her posture immediately stiffened and a shot of fear shivered down her spine as she saw the Templars make their way onto the platform. 

The Mother, who must have sensed her reaction smiled maliciously as her face became smug.

“It is already too late! My friends the Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this so called ‘Inquisition’ and it’s false prophet so we will –“ before she could finish, a Templar struck the back of her head with the pummel of his sword as he strode by, causing the woman to fall unceremoniously onto the ground. The crowd around them gasped in horror and slowly slinked away from the platform, leaving both Cassandra and Evelyn to stand in a state of shock.

One of the Templars that had stood besides the Mother went to raise his sword from his sheath, only to be halted as a man – who was in doubts the leader of the band – placed his had atop of his.

“Still yourself brother for she is beneath us,” he stated as a small weird smile played amongst his lips. The Templar who was visibly shocked by the proceedings merely nodded once and stood to attention before his superior.

“You’re not here for the Inquisition?” Evelyn asked with her brows drawn together in confusion, causing the Templar leader to snort in response.

“Hardly, why would I waste resources on something as feeble as ‘The Inquisition’?” he announced as he signalled his men off the platform and towards the gates.

“Lord Seeker Lucius wait! It’s imperative-” Cassandra began, waiting for the Templar to turn and recognise her. Obviously Cassandra knew him, yet it not only shocked her but also Evelyn when he didn’t stop to talk.

“You will not address me,” he demanded as he marched his way past the surprised Seeker.

“Lord Seeker?”

“Creating a heretical movement, raising up a false prophet, you should be ashamed,” he snarled as he paused in his tracks, venom dripping off every word. “In fact you all should be ashamed! The Templars were there to help with the purge of mages and this is how you repay us?” He bellowed as he suddenly swept a hand amongst the crowd, the sheer ferocity and power behind his voice sending the crowd to shrink back and cower in fear.

“We are not here to fight!” Evelyn declared with her back straight and head up high as she quelled the small fear that lay heavy in her stomach. She had met self-centred arsehole Templars before and she would not let him cower her. “Please I appeal to you, join forces with the Inquisition so we may restore order!” She pleaded, his hard gaze met hers as he took a menacing step forwards but she refused to back down.

“Join forces with you? A mage? Don’t make me laugh!” he drew closer so now they were only inches apart, his stale breath wafting on her face but still she refused to flinch. “The Inquisition is nothing. No power, no influence and certainly no holy purpose. You. Are. Nothing.” He punctuated each word with a break. His eyes were like molten silver, deadly with purpose and a threat of destruction. Evelyn stared back, her azure eyes just as deadly as she tried to quell the need to shoot lightening at the man. It was at this moment she knew there would be no alliance between the Templars, certainly not now and nor in the future.

For what seemed like hours the two natural enemies stood glaring at each other, the tension in the courtyard static as even the crowd remained silent. Cassandra held a breath, as she felt torn between her duty to her order and her honour to her friend and the Inquisition, until finally she took a step forward and placed a firm hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. 

Lucius’ gaze wavered as he took in the gesture causing his lip to curl in a slight sneer, until finally he turned swiftly on his heel and headed towards the gate.

“Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!” was his final words before he and his troop marched out the gates in perfect synchronisation, causing a crescendo of steel clashing against stone.

Silence filled the air as people tried to process what had occurred and what it would entitle, until eventually the crowd dispersed soon leaving the square deserted. 

Evelyn’s body refused to move, her muscles frozen as she stared at the spot the Lord Seeker had been only a few moments ago. She had never been in that sort of conflict before and needless to say she hadn’t enjoyed it, nor did she like the emotions that ran through her at that present moment. Her blood boiled in her veins like liquid fire causing the vein in her neck to pulse erratically. Her jaw ached due to being clenched so tightly and her hands were still balled into tight fists. For her part Evelyn considered herself a considerably easy-going person, never in her life had she felt this anger before and for the first time ever she wanted to destroy something due to sheer frustration.

In the haze of her anger, she could feel the Cassandra’s hold on her shoulder tighten, allowing her to finally turn her attention to her friends worried gaze.

“Come let us go back to Haven, there’s nothing left for us here,” the Seeker said softly as she gently pulled the mage away from the scene. 

Sighing a heavy breath Evelyn nodded weakly before they too followed the Templars’ path towards the gate as they has every intention to report on what a complete shambles the negotiation had been. They made it at least a few feet away from the main gate something sharply whizzed through the air and embedded itself into the ground.

 

~~~~}*{~~~~

 

His eyes had grown weary long ago and he could no longer control the yawns that slipped past his lips. Outside the artic winter bellowed in rage as the material of his tent flapped as it protected him from the winter’s rage. Finally he threw the report in his hand onto the desk with a thump, as he pressed the heels of his palms into his tried eyes. 

He’d been staring on the blasted thing since one of Leliana’s agents had handed it to him early this morning, but after five hours the words all faded into one creating a blurred unrecognisable mess.

Dragging his hands down his face he sighed as he looked towards his neatly made bed, the numerous fur pelts lay enticingly at him as they promised warmth and rest. 

He really should sleep, he hadn’t had no more than a few hours in the past two days and he could finally feel the effect. A few hours wouldn’t do any harm, his work load was fairly light with only a few reports to read; he could rest his head then continue after dinner…

The entrance of his tent flapped opened as Leliana ducked inside, causing Cullen to blink a couple of time to shake his sleepy haze and greet her with a disapproving frown. He was about to chastise her about not calling out before simply strolling into his private space, when he registered her tight expression.

“Cassandra and the Herald have arrived back from Val Royeaux,” she began not even allowing him time to ask what was troubling her. “Cassandra has called for an immediate meeting.” 

Nodding he rose from his seat, stacked his pile of reports and documents neatly before he followed the spymaster out and towards the Chantry. Beside him Leliana remained quiet and her posture stiff, something that was highly unusal. His guess was whatever happened in Orlais it didn’t go according to plan.

As soon as they entered the war room, Josephine, Cassandra and the Herald all ready stood around the massive table in the centre. His heart stopped for a moment then began to beat twice as fast as soon as he caught sight of the Herald. 

He hadn’t seen her since the morning she departed to Orlais, which had been the day after their encounter in the barn. He felt the ghost of her fingers as they had moved across his arm, the tingling heat of her magic as she had healed his wound, nor could he forget her soft smiles or bright large eyes. His breath constricted as he remembered how her hair had been down, the silver-blonde waves resting down the middle of her back. How he had yearned to pluck up the courage and run his roughened fingers through those silk tresses. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he replayed the memory, yet as he dragged his gaze to her he realised something was different.

She wore an exact replica of her usual attire yet they were the colour of moss green and purple. Her hair was bound in her signature braid with small pale wisps framing her oval face, yet it wasn’t her appearance that was the thing that worried him, it was her change in demeanour.

Her usual cheerful smile was replaced by a frown that caused lines to appear on her forehead as her fine brows were pulled together. Her back rested against the tapestry covered wall with her arms folded across her chest as her blue-grey eyes, which lacked their customary sparkle stared intently on the map in front of her. Something was definitely up and Cullen didn’t like it one bit.

“I trust your journey was safe,” Josephine asked as the awkward silence became too heavy in the room. Cassandra exhaled a sigh as she ran a hand through her cropped hair. 

“The roads are a mess, refugees don’t know which way to turn and we encountered at least six different groups of bandits.”

“And what of the meeting with the Templars?” Leliana inquired. 

Cassandra’s brow furrowed and she casted a quick worried look towards Evelyn’s silent form. Cullen also couldn’t take his attention away from the mage, never had he seen her so reserved before and for some reason that made him worry even more.

“The Templars have dismissed the Inquisition, they have denounced us to nothing more than charlatans merely preying on the people when they are at their lowest,” a few more glances were thrown in Evelyn’s direction, causing Cullen to suspect there was more to the meeting than the Seeker was letting on. 

He couldn’t help but feel his stomach drop slightly at the news the Templars refused to help. Of course he knew they needed either them or the Mages aid if they were to finally clos the Breach once and for all, yet the thought of handing that responsibility to people who already wielded such power was slightly unsettling. However he wasn’t the same man who once hated the sight of all Mages believing that the brand of tranquillity should be burnt upon their foreheads. But he had grown up, matured into what he believed was a wiser man and realised not all mages were like Uldred.

“However there was an unexpected turn of events,” Cassandra continued as she braced her hands on the war table. “Grand Enchanter Fiona came to us with a proposition of meeting her and the rebel Mages in order of an alliance.”

The advisors eyes all widened slightly, shocked by turn of what sounded a rather heated and dreary day.

“Well that was quick, surely it couldn’t be that easy for them to want an alliance?” Cullen mused as his golden brows grew together.

“The rebels are desperate and they obviously think the Inquisition is worth some value. If Fiona saw the Templars rejection, then this is the perfect opportunity to make an treaty,” Josephine declared as her quill scribbled furiously onto the parchment that lay on her scribe.

“My agents have reported that King Alistair has allowed sanctuary for the Grand Enchanter and some of the Mages in Redcliffe,” Leliana said as she placed her hands neatly behind her back, her keen blue eyes surveying the world map before them. 

“A safe and mutual place for a meeting,” the ambassador piped in.

“Or it could be a trap,” Cullen frowned in response, he couldn’t shake this feeling he had in his stomach, like all his worry and tension had rolled into a ball and lay heavy inside him. “There have been strange reports sighted within Redcliffe for days, Arl Teagan left the town to-”

“He’s appealed to the crown in order for more aid with the refugees, it’s understandable seeing as most people are fleeing there,” Leliana interrupted the Commander, causing him to shoot an annoyed glance her way.

“All I’m saying is we don’t fully know what underlying threat there could be. Give us a few days to evaluate the area and –“

“The meeting has been called for in two days Commander, we won’t have the time,” Cassandra disrupted and this time Cullen clenched his jaw to prevent a frustrated sound as he wished as that his colleagues would stop interrupting him.

Silence once more fell upon them as an agreement was unanimously answered. They would go forth and talk with the Mages and then hopefully create an alliance. This was their one chance of finally closing the Rift, and then with hope in their hearts would they go and end the plight on Thedas once and for all.

“So who will go and meet with Fiona?” Josephine’s ever calming voice disrupting the silence, as her dark eyes flittered between people. 

They should send scouts or at least maybe a few of Cullen’s most trusted Lieutenants, that way they could at least evaluate the situation and possibly persuade the Grand Enchanter to negotiate in Haven.

“I’ll go,” a soft yet determined voice declared as it rang through the room. Cullen’s head snapped up his gaze lying upon Evelyn. She had moved from the wall and stood besides Cassandra as she looked at the Advisors, her face still remained impassive but her eyes burnt with blue-grey fire, causing his breath to catch in his throat. 

“My Lady maybe it’s best for-” Josephine began before Evelyn began to talk over her.

“These people want hope, to believe that the Inquisition is everything they’ve heard, that we can finally put an end to all this misery. They’re not going to appreciate us sending scouts or soldiers for negotiations,” she paused as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Besides I’m a Mage, so they’ll accept what I have to say compared to a large bulking heavy armoured man.”

“Herald we don’t know if this is trap, who knows what sort of danger you’ll be in,” Cullen argued as he couldn’t quell the hammering in his heart. Slowly she turned to face him and he swore her face relaxed a little as their gazes locked. 

He wanted to storm over to where she stood and grasp her slender shoulders as he told her not to go and not to be so impatient. Of course he knew that in their line of work she would always have to face danger, but something about her going to Redcliffe didn’t seem right. Yet as he thought over it he was so confused on why he felt this strongly about her leaving.

“I will go with her Commander and we can also have a company of a handful of Leliana’s scouts and soldiers,” Cassandra said as she stood behind Evelyn in an almost protective way. 

Still his eyes wouldn’t leave hers, pleading her not to be rash and stay; he knew it was futile he had heard stories from around camp of the stubbornness she had shown during small missions in the Hinterlands and he knew that he wouldn’t be an exception. Her eyes shone with a fire he hadn’t encountered before, one that caused both admiration and fear to swell in his chest they the silently told him trust me. Knowing he didn’t stand a chance to convince her, he sighed in defeat.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, it will take us a day to get to Redcliffe from Haven so we should make it in time for the negotiation,” Evelyn admitted quietly as she looked away yet his attention remained on her as he nodded numbly.  
With some plan on what the next course of action was, Leliana declared the meeting to be over and that she had some reports from some of her scouts waiting for her.

One by one people filtered out the room, until eventually it was just himself and Evelyn. They didn’t speak, nor did she look at his face as he continued to stare at her conflicted face. Then moments after as her gaze slowly shifted to him, she nodded once before hurrying out the room, leaving Cullen to simply stare after her.


	6. Calm

She wandered around Haven for Maker knows how long, her thoughts mulling around in her mind. Briefly she had spoken to her companions, especially taking the time to see whether their newest recruits had everything they needed.

The elf in which they had picked up in Orlais after her peculiar treasure hunt seemed the most curious. Unlike most elven people Evelyn had encountered, Sera seemed to almost despise how most her people clutched at tradition, instead she claimed it was a new age and that people had to change, in other words the elves had to change.

It was a serious subject and one Evelyn tried to avoid whenever she spoke to her, as she knew it frustrated the girl. So instead they spoke of the war and how they believed everyone should be treated with the same amount of respect and freedom. Sera was passionate, as Evelyn had observed but she was also slightly insane. The elf never spoke sense always speaking as if in riddles, yet she had a child like quality that Evelyn couldn’t help but find endearing.

The other recruit who had offered their alliance was a stark contrast; Tall and regal you would think Madame Vivienne was from the royal family rather than being a Court Mage. The woman had a keen sense of fashion, one that possibly rivalled with Josephine’s. In fact when she first appeared before the Inquisition soldier’s they couldn’t but help marvel at her mysterious beauty. Evelyn had also learnt that Vivienne also grew up in Ostwick Circle many years before she herself was sent there. For a long time the pair laughed about some of the older more experienced Mages they had both known, but also grieved as they spoke of Lydia, who was Evelyn’s First Enchanter and found that she was once a close friend of Vivienne’s; as they spoke the pair mourned her death at the Conclave.

As soon as darkness had crept upon them she had tried to sleep and rest before getting up early in the morning in preparation of the long days she would have to endure in Redcliffe, yet as she lay in her bed she tossed and turned as the events of what had happened earlier that day repeated in her head. So now she walked in the dead of night with her coat buttoned up to her neck as she tried to quell the internal struggle inside of her.

She left the gates and once again she struggled with the creaking door until finally pulling the latch to a close. Silently with muffled footsteps she crept across the snow covered encampment, hoping and praying she didn’t awaken any of the soldiers. She took the path along the river, admiring the frozen water as it sparkled in the moonlight.

The Templars wouldn’t side with them because of her.

The thought of letting down the Inquisition all due to what she was tore her heart. How could people be so naive? Didn’t they realise that the whole point of the formation of the Inquisition was because they wanted to stop all this madness and find a way to find peace? Still she supposed that even with the threat of the end of the world, there would still be narrow-minded people.

_“You are nothing.”_

Those simple words that held so much impact which she found a reoccurring motif in her life. They were the words that her Mother had said to her when she first discovered she wielded the elements, words that Templars had sneered at her when they tossed her into their small cells for punishments and now words that held back a powerful potential ally.

Sighing heavily she collapsed onto a log that sat besides the lake, her hands running over her face. When did her life become so complicated? She could have blamed it on the Conclave; not many people could claim to have physically walked out the fade and survived to then learn she yielded a power that was wholly unnatural and unheard of. Oh and not to mention she was a supposed Herald sent by the most holy herself. But in all honesty, her life had turned upside down from the moment she showed her Father she could conjure up snowflakes with a wiggle of her fingertips.

“You know it is most unwise to leave camp without an escort, especially at this time of night,” a smooth voice chastised out of the darkness.

With a small squeak of surprise, Evelyn jumped to see Cullen standing before her with arms crossed over his broad chest and the corners of his lips turned downwards. Feeling like a child being caught sneaking off by there parent she could feel the slight heat in her cheeks as she stared up at him shyly however a smirk lightened her face.

“You worried about me Commander?” she asked, her grin widening as she watched his frown falter and his mouth repeatedly opening and closing. 

“Wha…No… I mean yes but…” He stuttered as he coughed and rubbed the back of his neck, an act so adorable for someone as fierce as the Commander of the Inquisition that Evelyn had to supress a smile. “What I meant to say was you seemed anxious earlier at the meeting and I heard you walk past my tent,” his eyes briefly flickered to her face before they returned to the ground. “I just thought I would come and make sure that you were alright.”

Her mirth immediately dissolved as she saw the worry on his and how his lowered voice sounded vulnerable. She had been cold towards him earlier, acting unreasonable when all he was trying to do his job and help her. Remembering the pleading light his amber eyes held as his gaze bore into hers, both broke and made her heart beat all that little bit faster; and in return she had given him the cold shoulder and ran like a coward.

A sigh left her lips before she could stop it, moving over slightly on the log she patted the space next to her and indicated for him to sit down besides her with a small half smile. Cullen stood awkwardly for a moment, his uncertain eyes flittering between her hand and face until finally he slowly lowered himself besides her, his armour creaking in protest and armour clanking loudly.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence as she tried to think what she should say, it also didn’t help that the log was so small that their arms brushed together, his closeness distracting her. The wind had picked up causing the icy breeze to whip the small loose curls from her plait into her face.

“Does this get any easier?” she whispered as she stared out into the darkness. “This yearning for making everything right yet people just make it seem it’s all for nothing, that no matter how much they say they want change they just fight against those who actually have a chance to save them?”

Cullen shifted besides her until he clasped his hands and braced his elbows onto his knees as he too stared out across the lake.

“I could make you feel better and tell you that it does after time seem to get better but we’d both know that to be a lie,” he began solemnly. “The truth is I don’t know, perhaps things just make more sense as we go along but what I do know is, it is what you make it.”

She nodded in response as she processed his words, even though what he said rang true why did she still feel it was all futile? What if they did save the world, end this rebellion and then… what? Would people be grateful, thank the many men and women who sacrificed everything for the greater good or would they still bury their heads in the sand, casting unnecessary judgement when really they are the ones who refuse to do anything.

_“You are nothing.”_

Her arms grew tighter around her stomach as she slowly exhaled. Of course deep down what really bothered her was people’s judgement that she was a mage. It was common for people’s opinions on her people to be low, as they considered them evil with only the intent on gaining more power. Maker what if her friends thought the same? What if _he_ thought the same? After all Cullen had been a Templar before he became Commander and joined the Inquisition, what if he was here to humour her? After all she had seen the masks people put on as they spoke to her all because she was the Herald of Andraste, but as soon as she turned her back the whispers of disgust begun. To think Cullen felt the same… why did she feel like her heart bled?

“Cullen may I ask you a personal question?” She murmured still refusing to look up at him, yet she could still feel his gaze on her profile.

“Of course,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.

“Does it bother you that I’m a mage?” she whispered afraid of what his reaction might be, yet as it carried on the winter wind she knew he would have heard. She could hear his slight intake of breath and plucking the courage she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

His brow was furrowed and his mouth thinned into a hard line and for what seemed like painful hours he didn’t speak, with every second of silence Evelyn could feel her heart slow at a painful rate.

Of course he minded.

Mentally she was kicking herself, her head screaming for her to get up from her place and run back into the safety of her hut. She had made a fool of herself, a complete and utter fool. Her apology was perched on her tongue, her mouth ready when his smooth voice beat her too it.

“I…No it doesn’t bother me,” he stuttered in a whisper causing Evelyn’s heart to soar. “Does it bother you that I was once a Templar?”

Evelyn started as her head immediately turned to face him. He was fully looking at her, a light in his bronze eyes that seemed bordering on worry. For a moment she took in his features, his stubble seemed darker than usual and his golden hair seemed tousled as if he’s run his hands through it a dozen times. He hadn’t been sleeping she observed, as deep purple rings were etched underneath his eyes. She felt her fingers twitch with a sudden urge to trace her fingers over the marks, as if soothing them would make them disappear.

“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, I’m more worried about if my status would interfere with our relationship,” she replied without thinking. It wasn’t until she saw his shocked expression that she realised what had slipped through her lip. “What I meant was err…it wouldn’t do well for the Inquisition if we didn’t trust each other,” she said quickly as she looked away.

The corner of his scared lip twitched as he nodded in response not doubt amused by the colour in her cheeks and how she nervously ran a hand in her hair. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Yep definitely amused.

Once again silence fell between them, with Evelyn unable to look at Cullen without cringing and unable to stop the crimson burning in her cheeks. Whenever she was around this man she acted like a complete buffoon with crimson cheeks and jumbled words. The only other time she had felt like this was with one of the Templars at the Circle. He had been so different than Cullen yet similar at the same time as they both held that air of pride and kindness in which she couldn’t help but find endearing. Same as in the Circle she knew nothing would come of her feelings, she couldn’t act upon them it just wouldn’t be appropriate, besides she wasn’t a beauty and there were plenty of women around camp who yearned for the handsome Commander’s attention.

“May I ask something of you in return?” His quiet question brought her out of her musings, his voice sounding almost anxious. Quickly Evelyn nodded in agreement. “Can you please promise me that you won’t do anything hasty when you meet with the Mages. I know we discussed this earlier but something just doesn’t sit right with me and I – I mean the Inquisition would hate to see something happen to you.”

Her eyes widened as her face turned to him. Her breath caught at the sight of his sincere expression, his eyes determined and a faint blush gracing his cheeks. Warmth spread through her chest and her tongue felt heavy. She imagined what it would be like to gently cup his whiskered covered cheeks with her thumb lightly brushing against the his scar, how easy it would to lean in slightly and press her lips to his…

Again she chastised herself and locked away those images into the back of her mind; she was here to help the Inquisition not to indulge in romantic fantasies, no matter how handsome and lovely that person was.

“If the mighty Commander of the Inquisition demands it then I suppose I have no choice,” she joked as she smirked at him. She wanted to be closer with Cullen but she knew deep down no matter how much she wanted it they couldn’t be more than just colleagues or even friends.

He smirked in response and his eyes softened for just a moment as they travelled over her face, it was so quick that if Evelyn hadn’t been paying attention to his features she would have claimed it be a figment in her imagination.

It was at that moment when he turned to watch the stars in the sky that she made a pledge to herself that she would do as he said and keep herself safe, just so she would come back and try to see that look in his amber gaze once more.

 ~~~~}oO*Oo{~~~~

 

They began their journey as soon as the first rays of the sun kissed the sky. Their bags were packed and their horses mounted, with a small handful of Cullen’s soldiers and Leliana’s scouts trailed behind them.

Evelyn’s party which consisted of Cassandra, Varric and Iron Bull were all in high spirits, with the dwarf and mercenary constantly trying to rouse an reaction out of the Seeker; some of which caused Evelyn to snicker behind her hand. However with jokes aside, the underlying tension was heavy.

It was make or break as they needed the support of either the mages or the Templars and with their very adamant rejection from the order, that meant their negotiation had to run smoothly with the Grand Enchanter in order to gain that chance to be able to close the Breach. The weight all four of them held on their shoulders was heavy as the future of the Inquisition rested in their hands.

They rode the whole day, occasionally they would encounter the odd group of bandits or feral wildlife but between them they were easily dispatched. As soon as the sunlight began to dwindle and the stars began to scatter across the sky, it was decided that they would make band near an alcove by the bend of the river and tents were made and a campfires roared in the centre of small clusters.

Evelyn watched pitifully as her party soon accomplished the ritual of making their shelters, making it seem such a mundane and simple thing. Beside her in a pile laid her unmade tent, no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t get the blasted thing to stay upright, never mind that the poles that were supposedly meant to connect together to make the base wouldn’t fit in the right places.

After trying one last time to get two of the poles to connect, Evelyn threw the pieces onto the heap and let out a frustrated sigh whilst crossing her arms over her chest as she tried to quell her annoyance.

“Need some help Boss?” a deep rumbling voice chuckled behind her.

Slowly she turned to see Iron Bull and Varric standing watching her with amused grins as they took in her posture and unmade tent. Her cheeks began to burn and a shy embarrassed smile played on her lips, as no doubt the pair had witnessed her tantrum.

“If you don’t mind, I can’t get the bloody thing to stay,” she said as her hand indicated to the mess behind her and stepped out their way. Immediately the pair got to work with Iron Bull holding the poles as Varric tied them together.

“Can conjure up a fireball with your bare hands but you can’t put up a single tent,” Varric mused as he finished the knot in one of the twining.

“Give me something to slay I’m your woman, ask me to pitch up camp… yeah you guys are on your own,” she smirked as both men chuckled. “Besides the Circle doesn’t really teach you stuff like that.”

“Ah I can see having to stay locked away in that tower for the rest of your life is a valid reason for the lack of tent pitching skills,” Varric joked but his face was soft with sympathy.

Soon her tent stood tall and mighty like all the rest as the boys finished the last knot, then not yet resting the trio began working on the fire for their cluster and a spit in preparation for the meat Cassandra had gone to hunt for, to which the Seeker soon came strolling back through camp with a few other soldiers; a few dead rams tied up and no doubt ready for skinning. Evelyn watched in disgusted fascination as Cassandra kneeled before one of the dead rams and began peeling back the animal’s skin to get to the raw meat. The scene should have made her stomach queasy yet the persistent growling that had began midday caused her mouth to water.  

“So Snowflake, tell us what growing up in Ostwick was like?” Varric asked some time later as the party sat around the fire, the ram meat sizzling on the handmade spit.

“Snowflake?” Evelyn asked with a raised platinum brow as her fork loaded with meat and rice hovered over her plate.

“You’ve got that pale thing going for you and the only magic I’ve seen you use involves ice,” the dwarf shrugged. “So spill.”

She pondered for awhile as she debated on what to say; no one had asked her what her life had been like before like the Conclave, after all with the stress of building the Inquisition there really hadn’t been much time for conversations on people’s private lives.

Feeling all eyes on her, Evelyn placed her plate besides her feet and folded her hands neatly on her lap.

“In all honesty I don’t remember what it was like in the city,” she began as she stared into the licking flames of the fire. The memory came to her vividly as it was her last moment that depicted true happiness before her life at the Circle began. She had been four years and her Father had taken her and Aldric to the markets for some precious bonding time; after all what was a Bann if he didn’t mingle with his subjects? The day had been so full of laughter as they tried various different foods and her Father rained them both with presents.

“I spent most my time in our family’s castle and then when I was nine I moved into the Circle.”

“I forget that you’re nobility, you don’t seem the type,” Iron Bull commented as he shoved a forkful a meat into his mouth.

“I didn’t realise that nobility had a type,” Evelyn smirked as she watched the Qunari wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah you know they’ve always got their nose in the air as if something smells off, they always walk as if they have a stick up their ass and what’s with all the silk? I mean don’t get me wrong it’s pretty and all but most of the time it looks better off,” he reeled off as he held up a finger for each point causing Evelyn and Varric to laugh, even Cassandra had a trace of a smile as she concentrated on her food.

“You obviously haven’t been around a lot of nobles Tiny, it’s all about status. The bigger and fancier your clothing, the more important and wealthy your family is,” Varric stated with half his mouth tilted upwards as he crossed his arms and legs.

“Hey I’m more interested in what’s behind the clothing,” Bull stated with his hands held up causing the group to laugh apart from Cassandra who wrinkled her nose instead.

“Not all nobles wear fine clothing.”

“No but you and Snowflake are an exception Seeker, I can’t imagine blood coming out silk so easily,” Varric smirked causing Cassandra to merely give an unlady like grunt and continue to eat her food.

The atmosphere soon became relaxed; all thoughts of the impending meeting and even the reminder glowing of the Breach faded as they all enjoyed each other’s company. As Varric began winding tales of his adventures with the Champion of Kirkwall, Evelyn sank to the grass with her back against the log as she took off her shoes. The strands that blew gently in the breeze tickled her feet as she brought her knees up and rested her head. She stared into the night and wondered what the sky would look like after the eerie green glow disappeared as the closed the Breach.

She enjoyed moments like these and soon with the help of Varric’s soothing voice and a sense of freedom; the young mage fell into a peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a great Christmas :)
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> Ren.


	7. Strangers in a Moment in Time

“Ever feel like the Maker’s just screwing you?,” Varric muttered as he walked alongside Evelyn up the slight hill. “I knew this damn arrangement was too easy.” Sighing the mage couldn’t help but agree; they had arrived in Redcliffe only hours ago with their footsteps weary and their clothes still splattered with the blood of foes they had met on the way. They had taken not one step in the tavern when a sense of unease ran through her spine.

The atmosphere inside mirrored their fears and melancholy; the Tavern was quiet, the songs of the minstrel drowning the sounds of the patrons light conversations. They had seen Fiona in the far corner with a small number of people, their faces and tense shoulders showing their unease. 

Earlier when the group had arrived outside the gates, one of Leliana’s scouts had informed them that no one had expected the arrival of the Herald and that no negotiation had been arranged. With slight disbelief and confusion they had all decided to go to tavern anyway to see if their information was true. Judging from the shocked expressions from the mages, it seemed that their scouts were indeed correct and that Fiona wasn’t expecting their arrival, thus causing Evelyn’s confusion to increase.

The whole encounter had been bizarre and Evelyn couldn’t help but get frustrated as the Grand Enchanter declared that she hadn’t met her or Cassandra a few days previous in Val Royeaux. She had felt the Seeker besides her get agitated; she knew of the warrior’s distrust of mages and that she was already wary about the potential alliance and the mages denial of a negotiation _ever_ being arranged made her bristle even more.

Then the damned Magister came strolling in.

As soon as his all too casual and friendly greeting reached Evelyn’s ears, she couldn’t help but tense with the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Another messenger – not one of their own but from Tevinter – had alerted them to how a Magister with the name of Alexius had taken over Redcliffe; she hadn’t felt comforted then and she certainly didn’t feel any better when her eyes raked over the insufferable man.

He seemed to look the typical Magister; dark complexion, power radiating off him in waves to show off his magic and of course the strange clothing that seemed to have an almost elven style. Yet no matter how much he tried to sound friendly and have a permanent smile etched on his face, Evelyn couldn’t help but not like the man.

It was when he was in the midst of discussing an alliance with the Inquisition whilst his beady dark eyes travelled down Evelyn’s body in an almost lustful manner for the fifth time, that she could feel her aggravation rising and the urge of shooting a bolt of lightening was so tempting, that things turned curious.

Alexius son Felix, who wasn’t at all well, collapsed onto the table they sat at. Immediately both the Magister and Evelyn went to help the man, when his hand quickly slipped into her and pressed something into her palm. Confusion pulled at her brows as she looked down at him, only for his eyes pleading her not to say anything. So instead she had backed off and watched as Alexius gathered his son into his arms and moved to put him back to bed, after a promise of a future meeting.

It wasn’t until she knew the pair had gone upstairs that she and her party left, then once outside did she open her hand to reveal a small piece of parchment folded into a neat square. Unfolding it, her eyes scanned as she read the neat calligraphy.

_Do not trust Alexius. It’s a trap – Meet me inside the Chantry._

So now they were trudging their way towards the allocated meeting place, all feeling anxious if not a tiny bit annoyed. Why couldn’t anything be so simple? But like always it seemed that there had to be a catch.

“Are we seriously considering doing as that note said? It could be also be a trap,” Cassandra grumbled behind Evelyn.

The mage couldn’t help but agree, the whole situation seemed suspicious. She should have listened to Cullen when he had suggested that something wasn’t right. With that thought her mood soured even more. No way was she going to admit to the Commander he was right, he wouldn’t let her hear the end of it otherwise.

“If it’s any consolation, I too don’t like this arrangement but what else can we do?” Evelyn shrugged as they began up the incline of the hill that the chantry resided on. “Besides don’t tell me you’re not curious on who sent the letter?”

“Well you know what they say, ‘Curiosity killed the cat’,” Varric mumbled besides her.

“But satisfaction brought him back.”

“Trust me Snowflake, there’s nothing satisfying in walking into a chantry to meet a guy we don’t even know, who _could_ very possibly plunge a dagger into my back the very moment I step foot through the threshold,” the dwarf retorted with a gruff tone.

Evelyn had always found solace in the small chantry at the Circle; whenever things got too much, when the loneliness became too overbearing, the smell of incense and the song of the chant had always helped chase away her melancholy. She would pray to the Maker to watch over her brother and even her father but also to allow her the strength to carry on. Yet as soon as she opened the doors to holy sanctuary, she couldn’t help but gape at the scene before her.

The glow of the Rift created eerie green shadows to dance off the tapestry-covered walls. Her left hand began to burn as the anchor reacted to the Fade tear, creating liquid fire to burn in the veins up her arm.

Demons poured out into the open space, their blood curdling shrieks and cries filling the air as their unnatural eyes locked on her party. Amidst the chaos a lone figure stood and fought. His staff twirling and slamming against the stone floor as bolts of mauve lightening hit the approaching demons.

“Ah good you’ve finally arrived, now can you be a dear and help me close this?” he grunted as he slammed the bladed end of his staff into a lesser demon’s chest, causing it to wither in pain and eventually burn into ash that retracted back into the Rift.

Without another word, Evelyn began summoning a rain of ice as Varric stood besides her unleashing bolt after bolt; Cassandra and Iron Bull ran and fought along side the stranger. Every now and then Evelyn’s eyes would wander over to their accomplice as she watched how his long white trench coat gracefully matched his movements.

Iron Bull’s axe swung one final time as it severed the last demon’s head from its neck, causing the Rift to shift and allowing Evelyn to finally raise her hand. Releasing the anchor’s power she absorbed the Fade’s essence before she felt it close, then with a mighty pull did she fully erase it from this world. As soon as she pulled back, her head began to spin causing her vision to blur slightly as her strength left her; no matter how many times she did that, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to the feeling.

“Now I can see why they call you the Herald of Andraste, how does that work exactly?” a breathless voice laughed behind her before it suddenly finished with a grunt.

“Don’t move mage,” Cassandra warned.

Whilst blinking away the weariness that clouded her eyes, Evelyn turned to see Cassandra pressing the edge of her blade across the man’s throat. To the mage’s credit he didn’t wince nor did he look remotely frightened, instead he held an almost bored expression as he held up his hands in surrender.

“I assure you I mean you no harm,” he tried to reassure before closing his eyes briefly as Cassandra pressed deeper against his Adam’s apple.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Well for one thing you all would be a pile of ash about now, but considering you’re all in one piece I consider that a promising start,” he drawled before his warm dark eyes averted to Evelyn. “Also who else do you think wrote that note?”

Keeping her gaze on the mage before her, Evelyn scanned his face. Clearly he was from Tevinter with his dark sable hair parted fashionably to the side as he sported a well-groomed moustache. It was also safe to admit that he was very handsome, as he was tall with broad shoulders and had twinkling hazel eyes.

Nodding once Evelyn signalled Cassandra to release the mage, causing the Seeker to raise a dark brow before she sheathed her sword whilst giving a heavy sigh. Raising a hand, the mage rubbed the thin line that was indented across his throat before turning to Evelyn.

“Now with all the excitement over and done with let me introduce myself,” he said as he stepped into a flamboyant bow with the back of his coat flaring out behind him. “Dorian of House Pavus most recently of Minrathous, at your service,” he finished as his eyes met hers and he beamed a brilliant smile.

Evelyn couldn’t help but grin in response, as his smile was too contagious to resist. Lifting out her hand she held it before him as he straightened.

“Evelyn Trevelyan, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Trevelyan? As in House Trevelyan of Ostwick?” Dorian asked with a raised brow as his hand sought out and grasped hers.

“The very same.”

“Fascinating. To think the Herald of Andraste is from one of the most influential families in Thedas, not to mention you’re a mage too.”

“Why is that fascinating exactly?” Evelyn asked with her forehead creasing and brows joining together.

“Well you couldn’t make it up really could you?” he smirked as he dropped her hand. “I bet the Chantry just _loves_ you.”

“Well it wouldn’t be fun if you didn’t have a few enemies,” she joked causing him to chuckle slightly in response.

“Rightly put, if I do say so myself,” he smirked. Besides them Cassandra cleared her throat gaining their attention, her face marred with one of her infamous frowns.

“Not to interrupt the pleasantries, but could you explain why is it you left us that note?”

“Suspicious friends you keep, straight to the point and all that,” he sighed before he turned to Cassandra. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so as you can imagine my assistance should be valuable,” he stated as he finished by winking in Evelyn’s direction, causing her lip to twitch as she tried to conceal her smile.

“In all honesty I was expecting Felix here.”

“Ah yes he should be here any moment, he was instructed to pass along the letter then ditch his Father to meet us here,” he frowned slightly. “I’m expecting he’s having trouble slipping away.”

“Back at the Tavern the pair looked as thick as thieves, I mean Alexius couldn’t jump fast enough when Felix collapsed. I’m finding it hard to believe he would turn against his own Father,” Evelyn said as she raised her brow slightly in silent question.

“Felix is an only child so he’s always had that attention from his Father, however to make matters worse he’s suffering from a lingering illness. So my guess is Alexius is acting like a Mother hen most likely,” Dorian sighed. “And yes Felix does care but even he can see that something isn’t right.”

“And what exactly is going on?”

“Look you must know there is danger, that should be obvious even without the note,” he began no more was there a underlying tone of mirth in his voice but hard. “Let’s start with Alexius claiming the alliance to mage rebels out from under you, as if by magic yes? Which is exactly correct,” he paused for a moment as he serious eyes bore into hers. “To reach Redcliffe before you, Alexius distorted time itself.”

Cassandra gave a disbelieving snort as she took a step closer. Evelyn couldn’t blame her incredulous; of course the theory of the manipulation of time had been a debate between mages since time first began, with many scholars trying to perfect the idea but continuously failing at each hurdle. If anyone could successfully act out on these theories, it would happen in Tevinter. After all they had no Circles, where they believed that they should harness their gifts and not lock them away, yet the idea was preposterous. To think someone had actually done the impossible and made it into to reality… But could she discard Dorian’s admission? After all they faced what they all thought was impossible everyday, the giant emerald tear in the sky reminded her every day. She was about to dismiss him and call his folly when something came to mind.

“Wait back outside the gates when we were closing the Rift,” she began as she turned towards her companions. “Don’t you remember how everything seemed to just … jump? Like time would suddenly seem really fast to then go in slow motion. Are you saying that was Alexius?” she asked Dorian.

The mage’s lip quirked into a sympathetic smile as he nodded in agreement.

“You catch on quickly.”

“Hold you mean to tell me that some Magister from the Imperium – which isn’t just yelling out trouble anyway… urm no offence,” Varric began as he cast Dorian an apologetic glance. “But now he holds the most powerful knowledge and magic that could consequently bend the world to his whim?”

“It would seem so.”

“Well shit,” the dwarf sighed as he shook his head in disbelief, his hand running over Bianca as if it would soothe him. “And here I thought Kirkwall was a barrel of laughs.”

“If Alexius can wield time magic, how come you know of his agenda?” Cassandra asked Dorian, her low voice dripping with suspicion and accusation.  

“Ah funny thing really, I helped develop this sort of magic,” the mage answered almost apologetically, however he didn’t pause as everyone’s expressions turned into frowns. “So I know what I’m talking about, trust me when I say nothing good will come of this. Rifts will appear not only in Redcliffe but everywhere and they won’t be small ones like the one you encountered whilst travelling here.” His eyes almost softened as he watched Evelyn. “If I had known it would have caused all this I wouldn’t have helped but it’s in the past and I can’t change it. Trust me when I say the magic Alexius is using is unstable and it’s unravelling time itself.”    

Evelyn couldn’t help but sympathise, knowledge was a powerful thing and to try to make something work after years of hypothesises, it eventually becomes something of an obsession. She had witnessed what that yearning could be like in the tower, even she too had had those same impulses as she tried working out theory into a reality, where she had tried to make new potions that were safe and completely useful. However what they were dealing with wasn’t as simple as a healing potion, instead they were talking about a whole new concept of magic, one that no one in the world or in history had dealt with before and that thought frightened her.

“So why is he doing all this?” She asked as she gripped her hands into tight fist as tried to stop the small tremor that ran through them. She couldn’t show any weakness, she had to be brave.

“In all honesty I was wondering that myself. I can’t imagine him ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys.” Dorian pondered as he rested his chin on his curled fist.

“He didn’t do it for them,” a voice answered in the shadows.

Everybody except Dorian immediately crouched into a battle stance as they prepared themselves to fight off the intruder. The man stepped into the light and with some slight surprise they realised it was Felix, his pale face looking no better than it had back in the tavern.

“Ah Felix so good of you to join us! Took you long enough,” Dorian greeted enthusiastically as the young man joined his side, before his smile fell slightly. “Is he suspicious?”

“No although I shouldn’t have played the illness card, I thought he’d be fussing over me all day,” Felix sighed with a frown.

“As long as there was no trouble then I think we’re all good,” Dorian replied as he smiled slightly at the man besides him.

Evelyn couldn’t help but notice how Dorian’s posture loosened whilst in Felix’s company and how his eyes would soften as he watched him. It was endearing and Evelyn couldn’t help but wonder whether there was something more than friendship between the two. 

“My Father had joined a cult, a group of Tevinter supremacists,” Felix’s revelation caught Evelyn’s attention and she averted her attention to him. “They call themselves the ‘Venatori’. And I can tell you one thing, whatever he’s done for them it’s to get to you.”

“Me? What have I done to deserve such attention?” Evelyn asked with wide eyes. “Wait don’t answer that, it seems these days I have a large red target on my back.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes; of course she had done something to piss random strangers off.

“Think about it, Alexius’ magic involves the Rifts and you are the only person known to be able to close them. My guess is that with you out the picture his plan for whatever will go along swimmingly,” Dorian replied as Felix’s frown deepened.

“Then we’ll have to think of a plan to stop him and find out what he’s up to,” Cassandra declared with her arms folded over her armoured chest, causing Dorian to smirk in response.

“Glad we’re on the same page, however we shouldn’t discuss it here any longer. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here and I’d rather keep it that way, so may I suggest we meet here tomorrow at the same time?”

Evelyn looked round for her party’s approval before consenting to the mage’s request. Saying their farewells both the Tevinter men left, with Felix leaving through the front exit and Dorian the back.

With all sorts of thoughts running through her head, Evelyn suggested that they all returned to the tavern and book food and lodging. She would have to write a report and send it to the advisors and some how make it sound sane.

Not for the first time, Evelyn wondered why everything had to be so complicated and not go according to plan.

~~~~oO*Oo~~~~ 

_Something was shifting through his hair, small and slender yet he couldn’t help but groan at the sensation as he moved his head closer to the source. Nails dragged against his scalp, causing pleasure to tingle from his scalp and to create a delicious shiver to run down his spine._

_He had been reading through reports all afternoon like per usual. His eyes had begun closing on their own accord as the fatigue from the past couple of days washed over him. He must of fell asleep whilst in the middle of reading the latest stock intake, too exhausted to continue._

_And some one was running their fingers through his hair._

_With that thought, his eyes opened and he lurched into the back of his chair as his hand automatically reached for his sword, which he always left resting against his desk when doing paperwork. Mentally he cursed as he realised it wasn’t there which was unusual as it was_ always _there. It wasn’t until he looked up to face the assailant till he froze with his heart in his throat._

_Evelyn stared back at him her blue-grey eyes wide with remorse, her hand cradling the other whilst clutching them to her chest. She still wore her travel gear, her clothes covered in dirt and dust and the escaped silvery tendrils from her plait framed her heart-shaped face._

_“Herald?” Cullen asked with his eyebrows drawn in confusion and his voice husky from sleep._

_“I-I’m sorry! You were sleeping and your hair was covering your face and I just wanted to…” she stopped abruptly as her frantic eyes fell from his face and dropped to the ground, her cheeks were becoming pinker by the second. “I’m sorry Commander, I’ve only just returned from Redcliffe and I wanted to see how you were doing. Forgive me for my inconsideration,” she whispered as turned and hurriedly went to leave his tent._

_“Wait!” he all but shouted and causing the mage to jump but however causing to pause to look at him from over her shoulder with a raised brow._

_Scrambling he rose from his seat and moved towards her, his hand reaching up and slicking his hair from his forehead. He would worry about the chaotic curls that were surely there later, at this moment in time he would rather concentrate on the woman before him._

_He would be a fool if he didn’t admit he hadn’t missed her. Even while she was gone, his eyes would wonder around camp as if he expected to see her. He missed how her song-like laugh would travel in the air and cause his lips to twitch in response. He missed their small conversations and their late night talks when everyone had fallen asleep when sleep evaded them. He had missed the warmth of her smile, the twinkle in her eyes and her comforting presence. He had missed_ her.

_So now that she was finally back with her standing merely an arm-stretch away, he couldn’t think of anything to say nor could he forget that only mere moments ago she had been running her fingers through his hair; an act that he was all too embarrassingly ready to endure once more._

_“How was your journey?” he asked and immediately mentally chastised himself as that really wasn’t how he wanted to start their conversation._

_She was fully facing him now with her cheeks still graced with the tinges of a blush. Her eyes wouldn’t fully meet his, as every now and then they would stare into the centre of chest to then wander to his face briefly._

_“It took some time but we were successful, I trust you received my report?” she asked quietly._

_“I did, although I must say it all seemed rather dubious if not to mention rather worrying.” She gave a small breathy laugh, one that made his chest tighten._

_“Trust me it was a whole different experience witnessing it all, I’m afraid on paper it doesn’t sound quite as riveting,” she replied as her eyes finally met his from under her lashes, her lips tilting ever so slightly into a half smile._

_Rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand Cullen tried to control the frantic pace of his heart. Why did she have this effect on him? Whenever he was in her presence he couldn’t help but feel like the awkward teenager he had once been. His thoughts were never coherent and his palms always sweated slightly as he tried with all his might to resist touching her._

_“I must admit I found myself fearing your safety,” he admitted as he took a step closer towards her as his voice lowered into a murmur._

_In response Evelyn looked up at him in question, every so often her doe like eyes would wonder briefly to watch his mouth._

_“Yet here I am all in one piece,” she murmured in response. She may have sounded teasing yet its effect was overruled by the warmth and huskiness of her voice._

_“Still I fear you may be too good to be true and this is just a figment of my imagination,” he replied. Maker they were so close, how simple would it be to just grab and pull her towards him? His neck was slightly bent so he could gaze directly in her eyes, their breath mingling as they were so close. He too couldn’t help but cast his attention on that lush bowed mouth that practically begged him to lean in and taste._

_He shouldn’t be doing this; she was his Herald and he the Commander. He shouldn’t act upon these sinful urges no matter how much his body screamed for him to do so. This could ruin the Inquisition, ruin their working relationship, he really ought to step back._

_“Shall I prove to you Commander that I’m real?” She asked in that breathy voice of hers, causing him to snap out of his thought and immediately cast his attention back to her mouth. It wasn’t until he saw her take her lower lip and begin to worry it with her teeth, that he lost control._

_His hands tangled into her silken hair causing the silvery strands to wrap around his fingers as he crushed his mouth to hers. A groan that was a mixture of yearning and encouragement escaped him as her arms wound tightly around his neck and drew him closer, their bodies moulding into one._

_Their mouths moved together in a frenzied passion as their intense hunger for each other increased. One of his hands travelled to the base of her head and cradled her as he tilted his head slightly at angle to deepen the kiss. Her mouth parted in a gasp of pleasure and ceasing the opportunity Cullen’s tongue boldly brushed against hers in a wet caress, to which she responded in kind._

_She tasted exactly like he had imagined in a combination of vanilla and honeysuckle, which only made his craving for her all the more intense as he repeatedly attacked her mouth with his own. The small noises that left her throat fuelled him as his hand restricted around her neck and hair whilst causing his already frantic heart to beat all that faster._

_Maker how he wanted her, it should be considered a sin on how much he yearned for this woman in his arms._

_He had been blind before as he merely thought that his fascination in her was based on mere curiosity and idol fancy, like he had done with the few women he had found interesting in the past. But now as he held her slender form against his own and his mouth caressing hers, now did he realise how wrong he truly had been._

_He wanted her._

_Not only in the carnal serenities of pleasurable bliss but he had also been enchanted with her wit, her large heart and fierce spirit. He had looked past her beauty and marvelled in the person Evelyn Trevelyan was and he wanted her in mind, body and soul._  

_With a groan Cullen reluctantly tore his mouth from her causing a moan of need to escape Evelyn’s mouth. Gently his forehead rested against hers with his eyes closed as he tried to regain some control on his ragged breathing. He needed to tell her how he felt, to try and describe this need he had for her, yet he had to think of how to say it without sounding like a blithering idiot._

_Slowly his eyes opened and once more he groaned at the sight of her smiling mouth swollen and red from his attentions. Those unique eyes stared right back at him, her gaze full of an equal measure of tenderness and passion._

_Cullen opened his mouth to speak, to tell her his feelings when her hand slipped from his neck and place her index finger against his lips. Slowly she rose up on her toes as her mouth rested against his ear. Her warm breath was hot against his neck, causing him to shiver in pleasure._

_“You need to wake up now Commander,” she whispered huskily into his ear, before suddenly vanishing and leaving him completely alone in his tent._

Cullen awoke with a gasp as he sat upright in his chair, his hand carelessly causing some of his paperwork to flutter to the floor. Usually as he couldn’t really stand the sight of such a mess, he would immediately undo the damage he had created, yet the beating in his chest had almost become painful and he couldn’t do anything but remain seated as he stared ahead with heavy breathing.

Maker what had that been?

Shamefully that hadn’t been his first dream of the Herald; sometimes during the days thoughts of her in a less than professional manner would play in his mind and at night she would haunt him, but _never_ had it been so vivid nor had it left him continuously shifting in his seat as he tried to ease the tightness in his breeches.

He could still smell her intoxicating scent as if she had truly been there and in his mind could he remember the addictive taste of her mouth, how her hair had been as soft and silky wrapped around his fingers, just as he had wondered all those days when he was in her presence. Even though his dream had been so realistic, he yearned to know whether fantasy matched reality.

Sighing heavily, Cullen leant back into his chair as he ran both hands through his tousled hair.

He needed to stop. Whatever he felt or had to mean nothing or else it would endanger the Inquisition. No good would come of it if he and Evelyn…fornicated. She was a good woman, more than that she was a woman how excelled the many females he had met in his life, yet she deserved better than a worn down ex-Templar who struggled with lyrium addiction.

She still hadn’t arrived from Redcliffe and he couldn’t help but feel nervous, especially as she was to suppose to arrive back two days ago. It had become a habit for his eyes to wonder around the expanse of the woods in case she returned as he was training with his man. Whenever he heard the galloping of hooves his heart rate would accelerate, only to feel nothing but disappointment as he realised it wasn’t her.

Another sigh exhaled through his mouth as he tried to read through her report once more. The fact that the Imperium had discovered time magic was disquieting to say in the least; time was the one thing that magic could not control and even though Cullen had progressed in his trust in mages, some part of him couldn’t help but tremble in panic. There were some elements that should be left alone and only the Maker could control.

Andraste preserve them, what was this Alexius trying to achieve? He had known something was wrong in Redcliffe; they didn’t have all the facts and that they needed to look more into the rumours surrounding the village. Hadn’t he warned her? Even when they had sat down by the lake all those nights ago, hadn’t he made her promise to be safe and not to get into any trouble? What if she couldn’t do this? What if the magic was unbeatable, too uncontrollable?    

No he shouldn’t doubt her, in his heart he knew Evelyn would stop the Magister, he knew she would. However as his eyes repeatedly scanned over her delicate script, his worry for her intensified; She would be all right and she would prevail.

He would worry about her for the moment, as he knew his anxiety wouldn’t cease until he saw her with his own eyes. Then he would try and distance himself from her.

For the good of the Inquisition and more importantly for her.


	8. A Dark Future

Screams ricocheted off the stonewalls as they hastily moved down the narrow corridor. Evelyn dug her nails hard into the palm of her hand, allowing it to slightly distract her from the sickening sounds that reached her ears.

This place was made from nightmares.

People she had grown to know back in Haven were either traumatised and nothing but a hollow shell of their form selves or their crumpled bodies lay in a cold pool of their blood, forgotten and piled up in the corner of a room or cell.

So many innocent lives wasted and for what purpose?

“Will someone please tell me we’re almost there? I swear I’m about to bash my own head in,” Iron Bull growled behind her as he shifted his battleaxe in more comfortable position on his back.

Evelyn turned her head to gaze at him from over her shoulder as she continued walking.

“Has it worsened?” She asked in concern with her brow creasing. 

After her and Dorian had escaped the two guards down in the lower dungeons, the pairs primary mission had been to find their missing companions.

The memory still haunted her as both Bull and Varric had been caged in separate cells. Red Lyrium had been encased all around them as they both had sat in the far corner in attempt to get away from the cursed mineral. Their mouths had moved constantly as they had muttered nonsense to themselves, their skin had grown pale and haggard and their eyes had turned crimson.

The sight had brought both grief and anger to her heart and with a prayer she sent a promise to them and the Maker that she would undo Alexius’ misgivings.

“Not like I want to plunge my eyes out anymore,” Bull shrugged but his voice didn’t hold his usual teasing lilt. “It’s like a scratching inside your head and under your skin, all you want to do is dig underneath the surface. Then there’s the song, it’s not so bad when you’re away from the red stuff but it’s still there in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come closer.”

As he grew silent Evelyn nodded once in understanding before she turned and caught Dorian’s worried glance. In truth she didn’t understand the pain Bull and Varric were going through and as selfish as she felt, she prayed to the Maker she never would.

Hastily they made their way down the labyrinth of Redcliffe Castle as they opened doors one by one, to which the same scene would occur; They’d barge their way in, Templars would be lingering in the room and an Inquisition associate would laying lifeless at their feet. Fighting would commence and more blood would be spilt.

Soon they had reached the final door at the end of the corridor and Evelyn braced herself for the inevitable image of the lifeless face of an associate splattered with crimson and their mouths open in a silent tormented scream.

“Tell me how Trevelyan managed to close the Rifts!” a sharp voice demanded through the door.

“I don’t know,” another voice spat, sounding much more weaker than the previous.  In response the sound of a resounding slap and a grunt of pain vibrated through the door.

Evelyn stopped in her tracks as recognition registered in her mind.

Was that Leliana’s voice? Leliana was still alive?

Hope and fear swirled inside her chest in the most complex way and as she heard the question be demanded once more, she wasted no time and blasted the door away with a fire bolt.

Bound by her hands with heavy iron shackles above her head, the Spymaster was suspended off the ground. Her customary violet and cream hood and uniform were tattered and filthy, stains of blood covered the majority of the once rich fabric. When looking at her face, Evelyn had to stifle her gasp of horror. The once beautiful face that was now a ghastly shade of white that it was almost grey, her smooth complexion wrinkled and shrivelled as dark shades of purples highlighted the gaunt contours of her face. But it was her eyes. Once such a bright blue that sparkled with both intellect and wit were now a milky white and sickly.

Their unexpected arrival caused both Leliana and her jailor to turn their attention to the intrusion, both their faces staring at the group in apparent shock. It was the Spymaster who first recovered, as when she soon realised that this was her long awaited moment she ceased the opportunity by hoisting herself up by using all the strength she had left in the arms and wrapped her legs around the bewildered guards neck. As she squeezed the man’s hand grasped her legs in a futile attempt to pry himself from her hold, yet soon his body became limp as his last breath left him and his body fell to the hard ground in a boneless heap and Leliana released him.

Wasting no time, Evelyn rushed towards the body and retrieved the ring of keys attached to his belt.

“It really is you. But how?” Leliana asked softly in almost awe as Evelyn went to work by unlocking the restraints.

“It’s rather a long story,” Evelyn replied with a glance upwards before quickly averting her gave back to the shackles. 

Even up close the damage that had been inflicted was sickening to comprehend. She could barely look into the face of someone who she had considered almost a friend without feeling the overwhelming sense of guilt that clenched in her chest. If she hadn’t disappeared, none of this would have happened.

With her emotions risings she tried to control herself and rein them in, as she felt her magic beginning to rise to an almost uncontrollable level; now wasn’t the time for a cosmos meltdown.

Vaguely she could hear Dorian and Leliana in the midst of what seemed like a heated conversation when a sudden thought came to mind, one that caused her breath to catch in her throat.

“If you’re here what happened to everyone else in Haven?” the mage asked as softly as she could, however the note of panic could be heard in the undertone.

In her own stupidity she hadn’t thought about anyone else, the true impact of how the world had changed due to Alexius’ magic only just hitting her. If Leliana, a woman who was so notorious for secrecy and for always having a back up plan was here, then their darkest fears had come true.

Leliana’s cloudy eyes locked with hers, as the Spymaster’s face remained impassive. Evelyn found it hard but she kept constant eye contact, even though the urge to look away was strong.

“I assume you’ve already discovered Grand Enchanter Fiona was kept down in the lower levels?” Evelyn nodded in response as she suppressed the shudder as the memory crept into her mind.

Encased in the thick red crystals of Lyrium, Fiona had been chained to the wall with her body twisted in pain as the mineral also grew out of her flesh. Evelyn and Dorian had tried to figure out a way to free the woman, but all attempts ended with her painful screams. She had then told them what had happened after the pair had been sucked into Alexius’ time warp and that they had been missing for over a year.

“Once the Elder One had been informed of your disappareance, he had the Empress of Orlais murdered and summoned an amry of demons to attack Haven,” the Spymaster informed them. “We didn’t stand a chance. Those who didn’t perish were brought here.”

“Josephine and Cullen?” Evelyn asked, her voice hitching slightly as the Commander’s name left her lips. She really shouldn’t have asked for she knew what fate had transpired, yet she just _had_ to ask as a small flame of hope flickered in the distance.

_Maybe he’s safe, he’s taken some soldiers and they’ve gone into hiding in the Frostback Mountains and they’re planning their attack. He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine._

In a constant stream she repeated this mantra yet she took in the look Leliana was giving her and with her heart sinking she knew her answer.  “We’ll find those who survived and rescue them,” she pledged as she clenched her shaking hand into a tight fist.

Without waiting for a response from her companions, Evelyn strapped her stave upon her back and strode out the room with purpose in her stride.   

                                                                                                          ~~~~oO*Oo~~~~ 

 

Days had merged into one, whilst time had become non-existent. How long had he been locked in this dingy cell, with nothing but rags and the rats that scurried along the hard stone ground?

Cullen could remember the beginning of the end as if it were only a few hours previous.

It had been a month since the Herald had left for her quest to gain the Mages support, a month of no news or letters. 

Leliana’s scout had come running into the War room, pale and the missive clenched in his shaking fist. It was with just a glance at the man Cullen had known his worst fears had come true. 

He could remember the shakes of regret wrack through his body as the pain of grief tore at his heart and seared his flesh.

News of the Herald’s demise soon reached all of Haven and with that a dark cloud of dread loomed in the horizon, as the small flame of hope that they had found extinguished.

He didn’t let himself grieve, he _couldn’t_ as he refused to believe and wouldn’t until he saw her body with his own eyes.

Wave after wave he had attacked Redcliffe, marching the whole of their army in attempt to find and rescue their Herald and each time he returned to Haven their number dwindled drastically, but still he took whatever the amount of men he could until eventually he stood alone.

When the Elder One’s army defeated Haven, they didn’t kill him. Instead they had brought him to the deep undercroft of Redcliffe castle, stripping him bare out of his armour and chained him facing the wall. With each lash of the whip against his flesh his jailors had demanded information on Evelyn, yet in response he stared down at the ground with his hair and sweat dripping into his eyes as his teeth buried themselves into his lower lip.

Both Samson and Alexius had been present as they watched the Red Lyrium being shoved down his throat. He had bucked and struggled against his captors grasp, yet it proved to be futile. The song of the Lyrium was strong in his mind, lulling him into the verge of madness as his fingers itched for more.

He’d been completely sane at the beginning, with Josephine in the cell opposite him. But as time went on she soon proved to be invaluable, so the Venatori had dragged her away whilst he spat a string of curses and pleas and she kicking and screaming. They must have found him useful for they kept him alive.

It had become the same routine; Lyrium then torture, demands of information, more torture to then being thrown back into a cell with only his thoughts to keep him company. It was only his thoughts and memories of _her_ that had kept him on the brink of sanity.

Her pale hair as it shone like a beacon in the sunlight or how it looked almost silver in the light of the moon. Her laugh as it reached to him from across the field as she spoke with her companions and how it made the scar on his lip twitch. Her smiles that could charm the meanest of men but would always make his heart a flutter and cause him to stumble upon his words. The way her doe like eyes that were that unusual pale blue-grey would sparkle whenever she got excited or spoke passionately about a particular subject. The way her touch had felt upon his skin as her magic had flown from her fingers as she healed the cut on his arm that night in the barn.

Cullen could remember it all and he clutched at these precious moments as the kept him at bay.

He’d been so stupid to think that the right thing to do when she returned was to keep her at a distance. Maker he had particularly felt his heart break at the news of her death, but to imagine that he would have been purposely avoiding her was cruelness on his part.

Thinking back he had known he had been falling in love with the enchanting Lady Trevelyan and he had refused to admit it, it was only until now when it was too late that he realised the truth and now he could never act upon his feelings.

Maybe this was what he deserved? This was his punishment for his thoughts and actions in Kirkwall, his hostility towards mages and the man he had become.

This was his penance.

He could hear the turn of a key in the door just before it opened, the sound of his jailors laughing and chatting as they strolled in soon followed. Closing his eyes Cullen prepared himself for the pain that was soon to come.

 

As his cell door opened, a hand fisted itself into his filthy curls as it yanked his head up in a painful grasp, while another pried his mouth open. Cullen tried to jerk away as he shook his head from side to side, but in his weakened state every movement was a feeble attempt.

He really should give up and accept this fate, after all his demise was inevitable. Yet as soon as the thought of giving up entered his mind his will to live surged up, as something was yelling at him to keep fighting.

 It was just as he felt the lip of the flask against his mouth that he felt his strength left him and his eyes closed in defeat.

 Then all too suddenly the cool press of glass tore away from his lips and a terrified scream cried out his name.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! 
> 
> This chapter proved to be too long so I had to cut in half, next part will follow shortly. :)


End file.
